dress

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“It's your cousin's baptism, you've gotta wear a dress. Now, aren't you a beautiful little girl?"

I sat in the garden of my great-aunt's cottage, nine years old, with the sun beating down on the flowers. 

I am not beautiful, I thought. "Mom, I don't want to wear this." I felt the moisture of a tear trickle down my face as I started to sob. "Mom, I don't wanna wear this!" My mother held me, concern written across her expression. I was trapped in the body of someone I didn't want to be, a bow in my hair. 

Why can't I wear a tuxedo, mom? why can't I be blue, mom? At school, they told me I had to be pink or blue. You gotta choose, they said. Why can't I be both, mom? I don't wanna be pink, mom. I don't wanna be pink anymore.

-excerpt from a longer poem

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 28, 2019 ⏰

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